Star Struck
by Etana1
Summary: Post-episode one-off for 2x12 - A Rose for Ever After. Spoilers for the episode. Castle walks Beckett home after Kyra's wedding.


_I haven't written very much fanfiction and this is the first one I've done for Castle. I always suspected I'd get around to these characters someday however as there is something interesting and a bit different in the Castle/Beckett dynamic. This came to me after watching 2x12 as a kind of explanation why two people who are so clearly attracted to each other both seem reluctant to make the first move._

***

She could still be star struck by him.

The feeling would creep up on her. It snuck in past her armor, her eye rolls and her verbal deflections. One moment Kate Beckett could scoff at his enthusiasm or juvenile antics, but in the next she'd be forcibly reminded that this wasn't just any guy, any schmoe in a bar or on the street, this was Richard Castle. Best selling author, Richard Castle. Multi-millionaire playboy, Richard Castle. Charming, handsome...

Kate took a sip of champagne as she stood at the buffet table. Kyra's wedding reception was in full swing. Dinner had been concluded and the guests were milling about, exchanging pleasantries and congratulations. Castle was still seated before his half-finished meal, regaling those around him with some wild tale or another. A few of those standing around him were old college friends he shared with Kyra, but she suspected many had been drawn in by the allure of a celebrity in their midst or by the charms of Castle himself.

The tableau reminded Kate too much of being 22, standing outside a bookstore with the latest Derek Storm hardcover clutched in her sweaty palms. She had stood among the jostling bodies, craning and peering over the shoulders of those in front of her, trying to catch her first glimpse of him. Kate had known what he looked like, Castle's face was on the back cover of every book of his she owned, but it seemed hard to believe even then that the real man could match the charisma that oozed from a mere photograph.

Castle had been sitting at a table covered with a red cloth, stacks of Derek Storm books all around him. The line was moving so slowly because he'd been so intent to have the opportunity to speak with each of his fans. Those who were still waiting their turn leaned in, trying to catch every word of every tale he spun for whoever currently had his attention. He had seemed so young, far too young to have come to such success. Kate couldn't remember now what he'd said to her. The years and the excitement of that moment had blurred the memory beyond recognition. It seemed fair however since he evidently didn't recall their meeting at all. He'd met hundreds if not thousands of women at such signing sessions, what was one more in that endless parade?

But she wasn't some starry-eyed fan anymore. Kate Beckett was a cop who spent her days catching murderers. She knelt beside pools of blood in filthy back alleys searching for clues. She'd drank the worst of the precinct's coffee and stayed up until the wee hours of the night filing paperwork. Then Kate would go home, collapse into an empty bed and wait for the trill of her cellphone so that she could do it all over again. Her world was about as unglamourous as they come.

Kate took one more look at Castle, still surrounded by his court of admirers, and drained her glass. Setting it firmly back down on the white tablecloth, she collected the bouquet she'd caught earlier. If anyone asked, she'd say that she was going home to get the flowers in some water. After all, six times a bridesmaid and she'd never caught the bouquet before. She allowed a small girlie part of her to rejoice in that fact.

***

Outside the hotel's coat check, Kate accepted her overcoat and was arranging bouquet, scarf and gloves on the counter. As she shrugged on her coat, she felt a pair of strong hands settle it firmly on her shoulders.

"Leaving so soon, detective?" said a voice quietly.

She turned. Castle was standing a touch too close as usual, invading her space in that way of his that made her want to both draw him nearer and shove him out the nearest window as well.

"Well, I've got an early morning at the precinct," Kate replied. It was a lie and they both knew it. With their latest case closed she had only paperwork awaiting her.

Still Castle seemed to accept this. "Well, I'll see you home then," he said, already striding across the hotel's marble floor toward the entrance.

"That's not necessary," Kate said, pulling her scarf around her neck and following after him.

"It's no trouble."

"I'm just going to walk it. It's only a few blocks."

"These mean streets shouldn't be walked alone."

"I'm wearing a gun, as you may recall."

"Good, you can protect me."

"Castle..."

They'd crossed the hotel lobby. Castle stepped in front of her to hold the glass door open with his trademark smirk. Clearly the man was in one of his moods and would not be deterred.

Kate shook her head. "Fine," she said. After all, he'd followed her around all day, what was a couple more blocks now?

Castle fell in step beside her, but surprised her when he didn't launch into conversation as he normally did. She had expected stories of Kyra or of his college buddies, perhaps the views of a two-time divorcee on the prospects of the marriage. But he was largely silent, only commenting on a good restaurant they passed and pausing at a newsstand to purchase the evening paper.

"No one appreciates the value of the printed word anymore," Castle had said, sounding absurdly like an eighty-year old English professor. Then he tucked the paper under his arm and walked onward.

Granted he'd been a good deal more subdued ever since they'd had crossed paths with Kyra Blaine less than a week ago. Perhaps Castle had simply wanted some company after watching the love of his life marry someone else. After all they'd gone through, Kate could certainly give him that.

Finally, the quiet seemed to have gotten to him as well and Castle nodded toward the bouquet. "First time catching it?"

"Yes," Kate said. She'd been absently passing one of the orchid petals between her gloved fingers and it was now slightly mashed under her worrying.

"Well, maybe that's why you haven't been married yet," he teased her.

"Yes, that must be it," Kate said dryly. "And I suppose you did a lot of bouquet catching at the weddings you attended?"

Castle hesitated and inwardly Kate winced. Nice one. Kick the poor guy when he's down.

Finally he said, "You were right about Kyra. She wasn't at all like any of the women I did marry. She was real, but that was part of what made it so much harder."

Kate wasn't sure she wanted to hear this, so she kept silent. Castle however pressed on anyways, "When you're writing a story, the characters that are the hardest to come to terms with are the ones that feel the most real. Meredith and Gina were easy... I mean-" he warded off her raised eyebrow, "_easier_ to understand. I thought I could make them happy and, if I screwed up as I invariably would, I thought I would at least know how to fix it. A nice new dress, expensive perfume, a pony..."

Kate shook her head, "You're not exactly painting a great image of yourself here, Castle."

"Oh I know," he assured her, "but maybe that's the point. Kyra's mother was right about me. A better man wouldn't have kissed a bride before her wedding day. I knew what might happen, but I went anyways. You would never have made that mistake. You probably haven't made a wrong move since you were seven--..."

"Castle..." Kate had to stop this. She just didn't want to listen to him flog himself any further.

"No, let me finish," he said. Castle stepped across her path, bringing Kate up short. They were too close again, the delicate bouquet holding open the space between them. Castle looked down at her, "People who are real get under your skin. They are the characters you always remember from the story. The people who draw you in, inspire you and afterward you aren't ever quite the same again."

He paused, and she could feel the weight of his gaze sink into her. "They leave you star struck," he finished quietly.

Kate's chest tightened and she blew out a quiet breath. Damn that man. How was she supposed to come up with a response to that?

As it turned out, she didn't have to. Castle seemed to become aware of their proximity and their surroundings all at once. Like a man waking from a trance, he took a hasty step back and flashed her a nervous grin. "Look at that," he said, "your place already."

Kate turned and saw that they were just outside the stoop of her building. The ivy climbing its brick walls was brittle and brown with winter and remnants of the city's last snowfall still clung to the shadows.

"Yes," she said a bit absently. "Thanks for... walking with me."

"See, I told you I'd get you here safe and sound," Castle said, still walking backward away from her. He stumbled slightly on the uneven sidewalk and grabbed the iron-wrought railing on the stair to steady himself. "I'm just going to grab a cab up the street. You have a good night, detective."

"I.. I will," she frowned, as he strode away from her. Kate dug into her pockets to fish for her keys, but then glanced back after him.

"Castle!"

He turned and for a moment Kate didn't see _Richard Castle_, the best-selling author or even _Castle_, her insightful and brilliant partner. He was just a man standing on the sidewalk on a crisp January evening, his overcoat swirling around him and his expression a touch unsure.

"I've never found you lacking in character," she said. Kate had meant to disguise the words in the tone of a jibe, a reference to his usual infuriating antics, but the words fell with surprising sincerity from her lips.

Castle's face softened. He seemed to drink in this small bit of praise, tucking it away to be savoured later. They stood for a moment, allowing the silence to say what neither had the courage to just yet.

"Until tomorrow, detective," he said at last with a gentle smile.

"Night," she replied before retreating into her building.


End file.
